“I think so,” comes the cautious reply.

“So far, the section of my report concerning the cooperation I’m receiving from senior officers is blank. How and when I fill out this section, and what I will say about you and Colonel Denton, well, that remains to be seen.”

The major doesn’t reply.

The two soldiers are being surrounded by their family members, their loved ones.

Rosaria says, “Are you sure you can’t come up with a name?”

“Lieutenant Baker,” he says. “Lieutenant Preston Baker. He was with her during her entire deployment in Afghanistan. If you give me your email address, I’ll send you his contact information within the hour.”

She gives him her email address and says, “Thank you so much, Major, for your cooperation.”

He hangs up without another word.

So what? she thinks. She’s got another lead.

Rosaria should feel good, should feel triumphant, but she doesn’t.

The sight of those two soldiers over there being welcomed back by their families is gnawing at her. Ever since she enlisted in the Army, she has always considered the Army her family, the ones who would back her up, who would befriend her, and who would even love her.

Now those thoughts are like old dust in her mouth.

Over there, in that happy little crowd, that is a true family.

Her Army?

Her phone chimes and she brings up the device. Her boss, Senior Warrant Officer Fred McCarthy, is calling her.

She brings the phone up and checks the departure board. Her flight leaves in under an hour. Time to get through the checkpoints and to her gate.

“Special Agent Vasquez,” she says. “What’s up, sir?”

“Where are you?”

“At the Nashville Airport.”

“What the hell are you doing in Nashville?”

“Looking for Graceland.”

“That’s in Memphis,” he says.

“I was misinformed, boss,” she says. “What do you think I’m doing? I’m working on the Amy Cornwall case.”

“What’s your current plan?”

“Heading back to Reagan International, on the way to return to Fort Belvoir.”

“You’ve got a lead?”

“I do, boss.”

“At Fort Belvoir?”

“Yes.”

“Too bad,” he says. “You’re not going back there.”

CHAPTER 34

I’M WIRED and ready for whatever comes my way, but I’m also trying not to get sick to my stomach. The polite and impressive-looking state trooper has come back to my parked Wrangler, has passed over my paperwork, engaged in a bit of idle chitchat, and I’m hoping that he’s about to send me along. Each minute delayed here means another mile lost in my travel to Texas.

Then the trooper starts asking me questions.

“Mind telling me where you’re going, ma’am?”

Excellent question, and recalling a highway sign I had seen ten minutes back, I say, “Chattanooga.”

“Really? I didn’t know there was an Army base in Chattanooga.”

“There isn’t,” I say, trying to sound calm and relaxed. “I’m taking a few days’ leave, meeting up with an old girlfriend of mine from school. Going to spend a few days relaxing and pampering ourselves at a hotel.”